Twinge of anxiety

A few minutes later, the door opens and the doctor walks in, a look of concern on his face. He looks at Iris, his eyes scanning her form and taking in the tear-streaked face and tense body language.

"You wanted to see me?" he asks, his voice gentle but firm.

Iris nods, her eyes still red and puffy from crying. She takes a deep breath, trying to steady her voice before speaking.

"Yes," she says, her voice a little shaky. "I need to talk to you about something important."

Iris takes another deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation to come. She glances down at the file, and then back up at the doctor, her voice firm and resolute.

"I want to get discharged tonight," she says. "I can't stay here any longer."

The doctor looks at her for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly. He's clearly curious about why she wants to leave so suddenly, but he doesn't push the issue yet.

"I see," he says. "And what brought this decision on? Is everything alright?"

Iris takes a deep breath, feeling a pang of guilt and shame for lying to the doctor, but also knowing that she can't tell him the real reason. She hesitates for a moment, trying to come up with a plausible explanation.

"I'm feeling better," she says, her voice a little too loud and fake. "I don't think I need to stay here overnight. I want to go back home."

The doctor is skeptical, his eyes narrowing further as he studies her. He can tell that something is off, but he can't quite put his finger on it.

"Are you sure about that? You're still recovering…"

Iris nods, eager to convince him.

"Yes, I'm sure," she says. "I can take care of myself at home. I'll rest and follow all the doctor's instructions. I just...I need to get out of here."

The doctor studies her for a moment longer, his eyes searching her face for any signs of deceit. But Iris keeps her expression steady and resolute, her gaze unwavering. Finally, he nods, albeit reluctantly.

"Alright," he says. "But I want you to promise me that you'll rest and follow all my instructions. No strenuous activities, no alcohol or drugs, no late nights. Understand?"

Iris nods vigorously, relieved that the doctor is actually agreeing to discharge her.

"I understand," she says. "I'll do everything you say. I just want to go home and be in my own bed."

The doctor nods, his expression still a little wary. He scribbles something down on a notepad, then looks up at her again.

"I'll have the nurse prepare your discharge papers," he says. "But before you go, I need to ask you one more thing."

Iris feels a twinge of anxiety at the doctor's serious tone. She nods, bracing herself for his question. "Yes?"

The doctor looks at her for a moment, his eyes studying her face. He can see the anxiety and fear beneath her steady exterior, but he doesn't comment on it.

"I need to know if there's anything else going on," he says, his voice firm. "Anything else that's been bothering you, or causing you stress or anxiety."

Iris's heart skips a beat at the question, her mind racing with the possibilities and the implications. She takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice steady as she answers.

"No," she says, her voice a little too quick, a little too sharp. "Everything's fine. I just...I just need to get out of here. That's all."

The doctor looks at her closely, his eyes narrowing slightly. He knows something is off, he can feel it in his gut. He takes a moment to study her face, searching for any signs of deception or deceit.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice soft but firm. "You can tell me. I'm here to help, not judge."

Iris feels her heart racing as the doctor presses her for more information. She's caught in a lie, and she knows it. Her mind races for a way out, but she can't think of anything. She feels trapped, like a mouse caught in a trap.

"I...I'm sure," she says, her voice shakier now. "I just want to go home. Please, can I just leave?"

The doctor looks at her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. He can sense her desperation, her need to leave, but he can't shake the feeling that there's more to the situation than she's letting on. But he also knows that he can't keep her here against her will. He sighs, glancing down at his notes before looking back up at her.

"Alright," he says, his voice resigned. "I'll have the nurse bring your discharge papers."

Iris lets out a sigh of relief, a wave of gratitude washing over her as the doctor agrees to discharge her. But even as she feels a small sense of victory, she can't shake the feeling of guilt and shame that weighs heavily on her conscience.

"Thank you," she says, her voice soft. "I appreciate it."

The doctor nods, his expression still serious but his eyes a little warmer now. He stands up, gesturing towards the door.

"The nurse will be in to see you shortly," he says. "Rest well, Amber. Take care of yourself."

Iris nods, feeling a mix of relief and anxiety coursing through her. She watches as the doctor crosses the room and leaves, closing the door behind him. She's alone now, but she feels like she's being watched, like there are eyes on her even in the solitude of her room.

Iris looks around the room, her eyes darting around every corner, looking for the source of the feeling of being watched. But the room is empty, and there's nothing there but the furniture and the machines. She tries to shake off the feeling, but it persists, an ever-present nagging sensation in the back of her mind.

Iris takes a deep breath, trying to calm herself. She knows this feeling is just a product of her own fear and anxiety, but that doesn't make it any less real. The silence feels deafening, and she can hear every sound in the room, no matter how small. The ticking of the clock, the hum of the air conditioning, the sound of her own breathing, all feel magnified in the stillness of the room.